The Hall of Doors
by whoisthed
Summary: Post-war, while watching Draco get painfully "interrogated" with forced legilimency, Harry impulsively shields him with his own body. The spells rebound, and the two boys find themselves trapped in a long hallway filled with doors. Behind each door is a specific memory. EWE, Slow burn, enemies to friends, eventual Drarry.
1. Chapter 1: Human Protego

Chapter 1: Human Protego

* * *

The bang of the gavel echoed within the walls of the courtroom. Whispers and murmurs buzzed among the Wizengamot as Draco Malfoy was led out through the large wooden doors, flanked by two Aurors on each side. An uncomfortable lump formed in Harry's throat as he tailed them, a somber procession through halls of the Ministry, eyes following them.

"I don't understand," he whispered to Kingsley Shacklebolt beside him. "The trial isn't over? It's been two years. He's already testified. _I've_ testified."

"The people are still scared, Harry," Shacklebolt murmured back, "They are desperate for answers. We found that this method worked well with Macnair."

They finally stopped and entered a large, dark, empty room with a single tall wooden chair in the middle. A chill traveled down Harry's spine like a bad omen.

"You don't have to stay, Harry." Shacklebolt held the door open. Harry shook his head, entered the room, and heard the lock click behind him.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, take a seat, and we shall begin." With a flourish of his wand, one of the Aurors – Wright, Harry thought his name was, a skinny freckled man with sharp features- conjured straps onto Malfoy's arms and legs, effectively tying him down onto the armrests and legs of the chair.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry protested weakly, but the other men took no notice. Malfoy looked haunted- resigned, almost, with gaunt, hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.

"If you don't want to willingly share those thoughts of yours in court, there are other ways to get to them," Auror Wright continued. " _Legilimens._ "

Malfoy jolted, his head met the back of the chair with a crack, his face grimaced in pain. Harry swore he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

" _Gently,_ Wright." Shacklebolt warned. Wright slowly turned his wand, as if driving in a screw into Malfoy's head.

"Please, don't…" His voice came in a soft, high pitched whisper. _Stop,_ Harry tried to say, but no sound escaped his dry lips.

He could feel the ghost of Voldemort pressing a finger into his scar, white hot pain,cracking his skull open like a book and ruffling rapidly through its pages. There was no love lost between him and Malfoy but he couldn't help but think that even a git like him didn't deserve this. He watched in horror as Malfoy's knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrests, his teeth gnashing.

"There's definitely some hidden thoughts in this vault,"Auror Wright nodded at his tall mustached companion, Auror Robinson, who raised his wand and promptly cast his own legilimens.

That was when the screaming started.

"STOP IT." Harry said, loudly this time, as Malfoy shrieked and rocked violently against the chair. "STOP THAT STOP IT THIS ISN'T RIGHT -" Before he knew it, Harry had bounded across the room, forcing his way between Malfoy and the two aurors, arms outstretched, a strange, unfamiliar magic emanating from his fingertips.

" _Protego!_ " Kingsley's voice boomed.

A bright, silvery white light filled the room. _Right, Harry, you dumb fuck._ He chastised himself as he felt his hands, feet and face going numb. _Should've remembered that magical shields exist and they work much better than a scrawny human shield._ The room faded into white as Harry's consciousness slipped away.


	2. Chapter 2: The First Door

Chapter 2: The First Door

* * *

Hermione Granger furiously apparated into St. Mungo's with a crack.

" _There's been an… incident._ " Shacklebolt had told her via Floo, being all vague and dodgy with details, long story short Harry was at the hospital and could you come please and thank you. The war was over, wasn't it? Wasn't all supposed to be well and good and what other trouble could Harry _possibly_ get into?

"Miss Granger -" the Healers chased after her as she strode straight into the intensive care unit, the door slamming behind her.

"Don't mince words with me, Minister, tell me EXACTLY what-" Hermione's voice faltered as she saw Harry, lying completely still on a hospital bed, seemingly in a deep slumber. Ginny was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, grasping Harry's hand with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Ron was there too, staring worriedly at Hermione.

On the other side of the room was another hospital bed, and lying there, comatose and alone, was Draco Malfoy.

"-What happened." Hermione finished with a whisper.

"Aurors Wright and Robinson were investigating Mr. Malfoy after the trial." Shacklebolt explained, "Using Legilimency."

Hermione pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead frustratedly. "With all due respect, Minister, this case is clearly different from the Macnair case! Was legilimency even warranted? Malfoy _confessed,_ he was willing -"

"The Wizengamot's decision was unanimous-"

"Oh, please, half the Wizengamot is just thirsty to see the Malfoy wealth REDISTRIBUTED-"

"Please," Ron interjected, his voice breaking. "I don't care about Malfoy, to what happened to Harry?"

"Harry… did not approve. He blocked the legilimens with his body. I cast a shield charm but…" Kingsley continued. "Harry seemed to have made wandless magic. I'm afraid not I nor the healers are familiar with the magic he displayed."

Hermione nodded, her brain rapidly recalling everything she knew about wandless and accidental magic.

"The spells rebounded, Harry and Malfoy were knocked unconscious. At this time, they're both stable but all attempts to wake them have been unsuccessful."

Silence fell upon the room. Hermione approached her unconscious friend and sat beside Ginny. She swept the hair from his forehead. _Not again, Harry, you courageous fool. Bloody hero complex._

"Is there nothing else you can tell us?" Hermione asked the Healer who had been uncomfortably fidgeting in the corner in the presence of the brightest witch of the wizarding world.

"N-not much," she stammered. "We found that when separated, the two men seem to worsen, and having them in the same room keeps them stable."

Something clicked in Hermione's mind. She stood and touched the nervous witch's arm gently.

"Well that's a start. A good start." She gave Ginny a hug and started walking out of the room. She shot a sharp, accusing look at Shacklebolt (who, despite practically being the most powerful and influential man in Wizarding Britain, found himself forming cold beads of sweat from the glare of a teenage girl).

"You coming?" she asked.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked incredulously.

"The library," she said simply, and promptly disapparated.

* * *

Harry woke with a start. _What happened?_ His head was throbbing. The last thing he remembered was being in that odd torture room in the Ministry, with the bright lights, and then Malfoy – oh, gods, Malfoy!

He found him sprawled on the ground a few meters from him. _Merlin, is he dead?_ He approached him and with trembling fingers tried to feel for a pulse on his neck. He was pale and cold as ice and Harry was terrified he had another Cedric on his hands. He held his other hand in front of his nose and mouth to check for breathing. _Oh gods oh gods oh gods –_

"YOU'VE DONE IT," Malfoy suddenly gasped, "SALAZAR, YOU'VE DONE IT YOU'VE KILLED ME."

"BLOODY HELL, MALFOY," Harry jumped, withdrawing his hands quickly, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I'm dead," he moaned dramatically, rolling on the ground. "You've fucking done it now."

"You're not dead," Harry snapped, as if it wasn't just seconds ago that the fear of Malfoy's dead body shook him to his very core. "I'm not dead." He added thoughtfully. "I mean I've felt dead before and it's—it's not this. Where are we?"

Draco stopped moaning and shakily stood, looking around. They seemed to be in a long, dark narrow hallway, unrecognizable to Harry. _Had there been a Portkey? Did we apparate?_ Harry wondered as he reached into his back pocket for his wand.

"Lumos," he whispered. A faint light filled the hallway, it was endlessly long, with both the left and right walls flanked by what seemed like an infinite number of –

"Doors," Malfoy spoke, his voice uncertain. The doors were tall, ornate, each one unique in color and design. Harry started walking down the hall, waving his wand, trying to find any clues of where they were.

"Potter! Where are you going?" Malfoy walked briskly behind him "I don't have a wand!" The farther they walked, the farther the end of the hallway seemed. _What is this place?_ There was nothing in the cold, dark hallway, nothing but rows and rows of strange doors. Harry looked back where they came from, and mysteriously, it seemed like the hall was now endless from both sides. "Do you recognize this place?" he asked Malfoy, who shook his head.

"D'you reckon we're still at the Ministry?" He asked. Malfoy said nothing.

Harry stared at the door to his left. A heavy mahogany door with flowers and vines carved into it, with a large, brass knob. He put his hand on the knob and pulled.

Malfoy quickly shut the door with his hand. "Are you daft? We don't know what's behind that."

"You're right," Harry replied. "And we won't know unless we open it." Malfoy stared at him and shook his head, but let go of the door. Harry pulled it open, and the two entered.

Harry and Draco carefully stepped through the door, alert, listening intently. The door opened to what seemed to be an enormous room with marble floors, in pitch black darkness.

"Hang on," Draco whispered urgently, grabbing at Harry's wand. Harry wrestled him away.

"Malfoy what are you-" He hissed, pulling his arm away.

"Give me the-"

"No, stop-"

" _I KNOW THIS PLACE!_ " Harry yielded the wand to Draco, who pointed it upwards, revealing a huge crystal chandelier. Draco trailed the light down from the ceiling, to mirrored walls, and stopped at a gigantic family portrait – Two stoic men in black robes standing on either side of a seated woman. All three had platinum blonde hair.

"We're at the Manor," Draco murmured.


	3. Chapter 3: Death and Rebirth

**A/N: Comments and critiques always welcome! Hope you're enjoying the story so far.**

* * *

Chapter 3: Death and Rebirth

* * *

Harry followed Draco as he walked across the empty ballroom in the Malfoy Manor.

"How did we get here?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco answered impatiently. "Maybe I apparated when I blacked out."

"This looks bad for you, Malfoy, it makes it look as if you're, well, running."

"Don't be an idiot, Potter, apparating willy-nilly within the Ministry is impossible, there are too many security charms. Anyway I didn't do this on purpose." He glared at Harry. "In any case if I _were_ escaping I certainly wouldn't bring _you._ "

He continued walking and muttering to himself. "Saint bloody Potter, throwing himself in front of hexes like a buffoon. Of all the people in the world. Harry-fucking-Potter." Harry felt his face flush with anger and opened his mouth to retort when a blood-curdling scream tore through the air.

Harry grabbed his wand from Malfoy's hand and started running towards the sound. "I swear, Malfoy, I testified for you and your mother, if I find that you've been secretly torturing people in your house- "

The screams persisted, and Harry found himself struggling to find the source, disoriented in the enormous, pitch black mansion.

"No one's here," Malfoy snapped back, "My father's in Azkaban, mother doesn't live here, no one is supposed to be here- "

"PLEASE, IT HURTS, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP," a young man's voice echoed, begging and screaming. "PLEASE, MY LORD-"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. Wordlessly he pushed Harry aside, walking with purpose, as if he knew exactly where the young man was being tortured. They reached a corner, and Draco held an arm out to stop Harry. They peeked around the corner, into what seemed to be a long dining table with a group of people standing around it.

"Death Eaters," Harry gasped, recognizing the masks. Levitating in the middle of the dining table was the screaming boy, dark blood dripping down his arm. Harry gripped his wand tightly, preparing to cast a stunning spell on the person levitating the young man, who he couldn't see from his vantage point. Harry's mind was whirring. He was hugely outnumbered. Even if Malfoy were to help him, he didn't even have a wand. He knew it was a stupid idea to rush out and start blasting spells. The boy continued to scream. _I've got to do it,_ Harry thought, _I've got to help him._ He jumped out from the corner.

"STUPEFY!" He yelled, red sparks flying from his wand into…

Voldemort.

Or rather _through_ Voldemort, as though he was just made of smoke. Harry stood there in shock. Somehow no one noticed that he was standing right there, watching the horrific scene. _Like Dumbledore's pensieve,_ Harry realized.

The boy fell onto the table with a dull thud, quietly sobbing. He cradled his bloody arm to his chest. Scattered laughs rang around the table as he started retching and a small pool of vomit formed where his cheek touched the table.

"You must be so proud, Lucius. So very proud." Voldemort sneered. "Show me."

It was almost too painful to watch the boy, sobbing, struggling to get up and stretching out his bloody arm to Voldemort.

 _The Dark Mark._

Malfoy laughed hollowly beside Harry.

"Well, Potter, this is what you wanted, wasn't it?" Harry turned to him. His features were hard, fists balled tightly. "You and your fucking Aurors wanted to see inside my mind, right?"

He turned his back and started walking away. "Look, then. Don't you dare look away."

Harry watched as Draco Malfoy—his schoolmate and long-term rival - sobbing, bloodstained, soaked in his own sick; killed, and reborn as a Death Eater.

* * *

Harry didn't know how long he watched the scene unfold. He watched until Voldemort and the Death Eaters disappeared. He watched as Narcissa Malfoy held her son in her arms, both of them sobbing quietly into each other as Lucius Malfoy watched uncomfortably for a minute before walking away without a word. He watched until the Manor faded away into smoke and he found himself back in the endless hall of doors.

Malfoy was already there sitting on the ground, sulking.

"Enjoy the show?" He asked sarcastically. "Tom certainly did."

"Malfoy, I'm-"

"Save it." He cut him off bitterly. "I don't want to hear it."

Harry sat down on the ground a few meters away in front of Draco. They sat in silence for a while staring awkwardly at each other's shoes.

"Well," Draco sighed, with a little tremor still in his voice. "At least we know where we are."

Harry nodded, thankful that the silence was broken.

"And since it's MY mind, I reckon I'll know how to escape it." He held his hand out to Harry. Harry reached out to shake it. Malfoy squinted and pulled his hand away.

"No, you fuckwit, your bloody _wand. I'm_ leading from now on."


	4. Chapter 4: Christmas at the Manor

**Chapter 4: Christmas at the Manor**

* * *

Harry's teeth chattered as he hugged himself, shivering, as he and Draco walked slowly along the corridor. Malfoy waved Harry's wand slowly across, from left to right, looking carefully at each door. His breaths were slow and ragged, coming out as puffs of mist.

"Hurry up and pick a door, Malfoy. I'm freezing." Draco muttered a warming charm, but still shivered.

"This bloody wand isn't working," he said.

"Let me try, it'll work for me." He handed him the wand, and Harry tried casting the same spell. Still cold.

"Told you, it's not working. This cold is immune to magic or something."

"So just pick a damn door already. We've been walking for hours. I dunno, _maybe_ it's been hours. It's too cold to think." He handed his wand back to Draco.

Draco stared at his feet uncomfortably and whispered "Nox."

Harry could sense the other's hesitation. They stood in silence in the dark for a while.

"I don't want to." He said quietly, "I'm afraid."

"Malfoy," Harry started dumbly, but he didn't know what to say. He'd never been good at comforting his friends, much less a guy he'd only been fighting with his entire life.

"I don't know what we'll see behind those doors. There are some things I don't want to see again."

Harry carefully took the wand from Draco and cast lumos.

"We have to pick one, Malfoy. We'll freeze to death." He gripped Malfoy's shoulder. "If we open another bad memory for you, then we'll shut the door. We'll leave. But we _have_ to start opening doors. One of them might lead back into the _real_ world." Malfoy nodded reluctantly, and started looking at the doors again.

"That one." He pointed, to a white door three doors away. Harry walked towards it, with Malfoy following behind him, and entered.

A blast of warmth enveloped them as they walked into a brightly lit living room, exquisitely decorated with colored lights. The frost on the windows were charmed to form moving intricate, lacy designs – a dancing ballerina, two children skating, a puppy. Garlands strewn about the bookcases, with decorative balls, flowers and ribbons. In the middle of the room was a huge Christmas tree, pile of presents underneath. A delicious, sweet, buttery smell wafted through the air. It took Harry a second to realize that they were back at the Malfoy Manor.

"Wow," was all he could manage. Draco still had a worried look etched on his face.

A tiny Draco, in a black sweater ran into the room, smiling, with a half-unwrapped present in his hand.

"Draco," a woman's voice called out to him.

"I'm here by the tree, Mother," he called out.

"Your father is arriving, come get ready for dinner."

Harry followed the young Draco into the same dining table where he watched Draco get the Dark Mark. House elves were appearing and disappearing with a crack as the table was slowly getting filled with exquisite food. Turkey, roast beef, potatoes, pies… it was an extravagant feast to rival even Hogwarts.

"Mother, this is wonderful," the young boy hugged his mother- young, and blonde, and pretty. Soft and wispy, like Harry never noticed Narcissa Malfoy to be. "This is the best Christmas ever!" Narcissa smiled and pressed a kiss on the boy's forehead.

Harry felt a pang of jealousy in his chest at the sight of the mother and child, the thought of Malfoy's family sitting together and having a cozy Christmas dinner. A lump formed in his throat as he wondered what it would've been like if he had grown up with magical Christmases like these with his wizard father and his witch mother.

"Narcissa!" Lucius's voice roared from the other room.

"Welcome home, dear," she spoke breathily.

"What have you done?"

"Father!" The small boy ran up to the proud, sleek man, grabbing the edge of his black cloak. "Mother turned the house into a Christmas wonderland! Isn't it beautiful!"

Lucius Malfoy sneered.

"It is absolutely not," he hissed. He looked around his beautiful home. "Christmas trees? Wreaths? Mistletoe? These traditions are awfully... _Muggle_ are they not?"

Narcissa's face fell. "I just though it w-would be nice for Draco." She faltered.

Lucius straightened, and started flicking his wand briskly at the decorations, vanishing them.

"This is the Malfoy family home! A _bastion_ of pureblood magic for centuries! It doesn't deserve to be tarried by this gaudy… _pedestrian… "_

Narcissa approached her husband and gently touched his face, and he stiffened at the contact. "The war is over, Lucius."

He sighed. His eyes shifted to the small blonde boy looking up to him with wide eyes.

"I… know that, my beloved, it's just," Lucius lowered his voice as to not let the boy hear, "There are still…. Whispers… I just don't want my family to… I just want us to be safe." His wife gently wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We will be safe." She pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Does he get to keep the presents?" She added in a whisper.

"Some," he answered gruffly.

"I'm sorry, Father." The blonde boy finally spoke up. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lucius's features softened a little.

"You simply have to be educated on the _true_ wizard traditions. Not this silly drivel. Sit down, my boy, and we shall speak about them over dinner."

A few more flicks of his wand, and the dining room was still grand, but much more dark and solemn.

Narcissa looked down sadly at her son, who was clearly holding back tears as the decorations that brought him so much joy disappeared.

"I suppose I will take down the other decorations."

Draco sat at the end of the long table and his father sat at the other end.

"Now. The magic of our forefathers, the ancient wizards, was deeply rooted in nature. They channeled the energy of the sun and the moon. The Winter Solstice was a special time for wizards as it was the shortest day and the longest night of the year. The sun at its weakest, and the moon…."

Harry watched the boy pick at his food as his father lectured him on old magic. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him as he sat, straight-backed, unsmiling and looking almost… lonely. He never really gave much thought about Malfoy's home life. He'd always just been Malfoy, the spoiled brat, the bully, the Death Eater, and eventually, the cowardly turncloak. It was extremely strange for him to see the Malfoys interact affectionately towards each other, although he sensed a little bit of stiff formality – not quite the Weasleys but not the Dursleys either.

"Ah, yes. My last Christmas," Draco spoke, finally. "And my first Winter Solstice."

"Well… that was unexpected. I really thought this was gonna be one of your good memories."

Malfoy had an odd, soft look in his eyes. He watched his mother quietly waving her wand, taking down the enchantments on the frosted windows, but leaving one bird fluttering in the corner. Malfoy walked towards the window traced the bird with his finger, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"It is."

He turned to Harry. "My father always taught me that the night is darkest just before the dawn."

* * *

A/N: I had a little difficulty with this chapter. I wanted the chapter to explore the Malfoy family dynamic, as I always thought the central motivation of all the Malfoys was family, even more than purity. I don't want my Lucius to seem evil, just a proud, flawed, and fearful family man who made some bad choices.

I Hope you like that little winter solstice drabble, I had to google "Do wizards get their power from the moon"


	5. Chapter 5: The Infamous Cupboard

**Chapter 5: The Infamous Cupboard**

 _Warning: Mild description of abuse_

* * *

Draco tried not to think about how odd it was to be sharing the most intimate moments of his life to a boy he had spent his entire life _hating._ His rather horrifying aunt had taught him Occlumency at an early age as their … _lifestyle_ had made it highly likely for nosy fuckers (or rather nose-less, he chuckled to himself) to try to rummage around in their minds. So Draco had always been pretty confident that his secrets were his alone – except now, he was practically walking Harry-Bloody-Potter through his life in painfully colorful detail.

It certainly didn't help that he was holding on and using Potter's wand. He thought of his perverted friend Blaise's words—"Wands are extremely personal, holding another man's wand is like holding his coc-" He shook his head frantically, trying to erase the image from his mind. Instead he tried to focus on looking for a door that stood out, that seemed different, while the cold slowly crept through his thin shirt.

"D'you think Shacklebolt is searching for us?" Potter asked, rubbing his arms for warmth.

Malfoy snorted. "If he were, it'd only be a beautiful tearful reunion for _one_ of us. I imagine it's straight to Azkaban for me. But who knows? Maybe more torture. _Exciting,_ no?" He felt anger bubbling up inside him and pouring out of his mouth like lava. "Given _my_ prospects, I'm perplexed as to why I'm even _trying_ to find a way out!" He started stomping down the hallway, wanting to create as much distance as he could from Potter.

"I should just STAY lost!"

"Malfoy, calm down," Harry said, walking briskly after him. "That won't happen, I can help you."

" _Help me_? Merlin, Potter!" Malfoy turned around to face him. "Maybe that's the problem! Every time _you_ try to help me I end up hurt, humiliated, _literally physically injured—MAYBE—JUST MAYBE-_ " in his head he knew that he was overreacting a little bit but the word lava was unstoppable.

"—you could do me a favor and leave me alone!" He reached towards the nearest door and slammed it open.

He stepped into the door into what seemed to be a long, unfamiliar road of manicured houses, almost identical to each other, all with wide, well-kempt lawns. He grasped the nearest lamppost.

 _Solid._

He knelt down and felt the blades of grass on the ground, it was dewy and scratchy and seemed very real, unlike the ethereal texture of the Manor in his memories.

"Fuck," he swore as Harry stepped up from behind him. "We've done it, we're out. I don't recognize this place."

Harry shook his head. "I do." He gestured to a nearby house, Number Four, where a scrawny boy with jet black hair was struggling to push a strange mechanical contraption almost the same size as him across the lawn.

"This is Privet Drive. This one's one of mine."

* * *

" _What?_ " Malfoy snapped. "What do you mean one of yours?"

"I don't have all the answers, Malfoy!" Harry snapped back. "This is the neighborhood I grew up on. I lived with muggles. That's _me._ " Malfoy took a long look at the boy with the strange machine. Unmistakable green eyes. A lighting shaped scar on his sweaty forehead.

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Mowing the lawn." Malfoy stared at him blankly. He sighed, exasperated. "Cutting … the grass? That's a lawnmower. Muggles, remember?"

"So… odd. You're so skinny," Malfoy said with a laugh. The boy on the lawn seemed to be wearing clothes three sizes too big. "What, the muggles forget to feed you?" The cold death stare Harry gave him felt like a dementor sucked his soul out.

"Oh, um," he stammered. "Oh, shit. I—Did they…?"

"I didn't have a great childhood," Harry replied with a shrug.

They walked over to the young Potter who was whimpering as he entered the house. He glanced at the clock and gave a small whine. Draco heard talking voices from another room. He peeked and saw a fat lard-sack of a boy staring at a large black box with moving pictures.

"That's my cousin, Dudley." Harry said. "And that's a telly."

"What the fuck is a - nevermind. What's happening here? What are you doing?" The skinny boy was now on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor furiously. A petite, horsefaced woman was setting the table, walking over the soapy floor as if she couldn't see the boy scrubbing it.

"I'm cleaning the floor."

"Yes, I can _see_ that. But why? No house elves, okay, I see that. Do all muggle children do this? I'm so bloody confused."

"I suppose?" Harry said with a chuckle. "But particularly the muggle children whose aunts and uncles _hate_ them."

"They hated you? _No one_ hates you, Potter. You're the _beloved_ Potter. It's who you _are_."

Harry shook his head. A set of keys jingled outside the door, which opened as a stocky, mustached man in a muggle suit entered. "Petunia! I'm home!" He hollered.

"That's my Uncle Vernon. His wife, Aunt Petunia, is my mother's sister." _The horseface,_ Draco thought to himself.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here." Vernon said, with a hint of glee in his voice. "What did I tell you, boy? Didn't I say all the chores have to be done by the time I get home from work?"

"Please, Uncle Vernon, it's just the floors left -"

"And _didn't_ I say if the chores aren't done, that means no supper for you?"

"Uncle Vernon, please, I didn't' have supper last night-" Draco saw the older Harry staring at his feet and the oddest compulsion to hug him.

"We had an _agreement,_ boy! Go to your cupboard!"

"Uncle please, I'm h-hungry-"

"Fuck," Draco swore under his breath. " _Did he say cupboard?"_

"Let's leave," Harry said, as his younger self started sobbing. Draco nodded nervously and turned as if to go, when Vernon's voice boomed from behind him.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, BOY?"

"I SAID I WISH MY FATHER WAS HERE-" Draco's head whipped around fast, and he saw a great big ham fist come down on the small, defiant boy's face. His heart thudded in his ears, felt the blood drain his face.

"Vernon!" The woman finally spoke. "Th-the neighbors."

"The _neighbors?_ " Draco thought incredulously. _This woman was worrying about the neighbors when a small, half-starved boy was literally just begging for supper and got socked in the face for it?_

"Your father," Vernon said through gritted teeth, "Was a lazy, good-for-nothing alcoholic, who went and killed himself and your mother in a car accident. And that's what you call _good riddance._ " He grabbed the boy's oversized shirt. "Now GO—TO—YOUR-CUPBOARD!" He dragged the boy to a cupboard under the stairs, pushed him into it, and locked it from the outside, imprisoning the boy.

"Merlin," Draco croaked.

"Please?" Harry said calmly. "It's time to go."

They walked back outside to Privet Drive. Unfortunately, there was no door back to the hallway of doors and the awful memory didn't seem to be fading. Harry sat down on the grass. Draco followed suit. He had about a million questions but he didn't know if they were appropriate to ask.

"H-how… old were you?"

"About ten, eleven." Harry was quiet and oddly serene.

"And you came back here every year? Why?"

"I had to," he shrugged. "Dumbledore explained it to me, something about my mother's blood magic protecting me in this place."

"Dumbledore knew about _this_?" Harry said nothing. Draco toyed with the grass, pushing back the thought that if he knew this back in sixth year, he may have actually been successful in his mission for Voldemort.

"I've heard about the cupboard," he confessed. "The cupboard under the stairs. That you lived in one. I always thought it was just a rumor. You know… A tragic past for the hero. Stories to make you seem more impressive. Like your Hungarian Horntail chest tattoo."

He didn't know why his heart leapt a little when Harry finally smiled.

"Or y'know. Your centaur heritage giving you a horse willy."

That one made Harry burst out into laughter, and he felt relief wash over him.

"Hey, um… I'm sorry. I am. It's just… You've seen some of my past, it was terrible, but I always had my family..." He trailed off. "I can't imagine what it would have been like growing up without a family."

"Yeah, well," he replied. "I had a family. I have Ron and Hermione, and all the Weasleys, and my friends who care about me. And I'm lucky because I got to choose them."

"But I really don't get it," Draco blurted out, despite himself. Harry regarded him with impossibly bright green eyes. _Okay how do I say this without sounding like a complete prejudiced prick?_ "I don't get it. These muggles… they treated you like this your entire life. They treated you like shit? And you… you fought a war for them. You… practically gave up your life."

"I don't need you to get it," Harry said simply. "It's who I _am_."

Draco studied his face closely and for a minute, it almost seemed to emit a warm, bronze glow. He must've been going insane because for a minute, he _really_ bought into the whole Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World thing.

* * *

 **A/N: I really liked how this one turned out, my first chapter in Draco's perspective. I found it much easier than Harry's, from the previous chapters. What do you think? I'd love some comments/critiques. I promise more Drarriness in the future chapters. I mean I DID say it was gonna be a slow burn. *wink wink***


	6. Chapter 6: Anima Revelare

**Chapter 6:** _ **Anima Revelare**_

* * *

Ron Weasley sat up from his desk and stretched. Five o'clock, quitting time.

"Ron," Auror Jones knocked at his open door. "The boys and I are headed to Rosmerta's, you wanna come?" It had been a long day at the office, and he could go for a few butterbeers, but he shook his head.

"Nah, mate," he replied, "I got plans."

Jones grinned at him and winked. "Special night with the lady, eh? Good luck." Ron laughed and waved him away.

The truth was that it was his night to spend watching Harry in St. Mungo's. At first it was for protection, him and Hermione, George, Ginny, his mum and dad, all decided that someone should stay with Harry each night. Luna offered twice as much nights to stay with him, going on about "one night for each of the two." Strange, but Ron learned that thinking about Luna's riddle-like speech only made his head hurt.

As a month passed, however, with Hermione's fail-proof wards, they'd started to do it just to keep him company. His mum would slap him at the thought of leaving Harry alone in that hospital room. _Well, not completely alone._

He apparated to St. Mungo's and held his wand out for the wards to let him in the hospital room.

"Hiya, Harry, how are you?" He said to the sleeping man. He found it easiest to act as normal as possible, and that meant speaking to Harry as though he was awake. "You've made it on the newspaper again, look. 'Where is our Savior?' Bloody hell, even just by sleeping you make it onto the papers. Good news is that Hermione's wards worked, and the reporters still haven't figured out that you haven't left this place." He looked at the other sleeping form in the room.

"Alright there Malfoy, you bloody git?"

Ron drew up a recliner beside Harry's bed and settled in. He'd read Harry the sports section of the paper, and some of the gossip section that his mum liked so much and he was secretly kind of into. After a while, he started feeling the exhaustion take hold of him, and he lapsed into a comfortable silence. He watched Harry's chest rise and fall steadily, his eyes moving slowly under his shut eyelids, as if dreaming. He sighed, and pulled a small box from his pocket. Inside was a simple silver band, with a modest, bright diamond.

"Hurry up and wake up won't you, mate?" He said quietly. "You know I can't do this without you." He put the ring back in his pocket, and drifted to sleep.

* * *

"Morning, Ronald." Hermione's voice pulled him from his slumber.

"G'morning, beautiful," he replied. Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron tried to rise from his recliner to kiss her.

"Nuh-uh," she said, "Company." Ron rubbed his sleepy eyes to see Ginny, Kingsley Shacklebolt and, to his surprise, Narcissa Malfoy entering the room.

He sprang to his feet, wand drawn. "Why is she here?" Narcissa ignored him, her hand clasped to her mouth.

"My poor son," she gasped, "My poor Draco." She glared at Shacklebolt. "I assume you know that the Ministry _will_ hear from me, for the way my son has been treated. And to not inform me! If Miss Granger hadn't -"

"The Aurors responsible have been reprimanded," Kingsley assured her. "And you _have_ been pretty elusive, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Let's not delay any longer," Hermione interrupted, a mad gleam in her eye. She turned to Ginny, gesturing excitedly. "As I was saying, I've been spending all my time reading about Harry's condition. But there's this one idea I had in particular. Have you ever heard of _folie a deux_?" Ginny shook her head.

"Is she a friend of Fleur Delacour?" Ron joked, earning another eyeroll (but also a small smile, he noted) from Hermione.

"'Madness shared by two.' It's a muggle idea. The healer's comment about one not being stable without the other reminded me of it. There are stories of twins sharing a psychosis, even claims of one getting physically sick when kept from the other. So I was thinking, was there a magical counterpart? And then I came across this spell."

She opened a large dusty tome she had been carrying to the page that she had marked.

" _Anima Revelare._ It's old magic, a spell designed by purebloods in order to determine the presence of magic in a person."

"To find out if a person is pureblood or not?" Ginny asked.

"Blimey, that's disgusting," Ron wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, well, it was a different time." Hermione scolded, her head gesturing towards Narcissa. "Unfortunately, it didn't work quite how they wanted it – the spell showed the presence of magic regardless of blood status. It even showed magic in house elves, centaurs, merpeople, and the like. So you can imagine, purebloods discarded the spell pretty quickly."

"Okay, so…" Ron struggled to follow. "What about this spell?"

"Well, I couldn't find much about the spell everywhere, being such an old abandoned pureblood relic and all," she continued, "But luckily, Malfoy Manor has a huge library of abandoned pureblood relics. Exactly what I needed. Thank you again for your help, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Narcissa, please. And it is I who should be thanking you, dear."

"So here we are." She pointed at the words of the tome with her wand. "I've practiced it a little, but only on myself, and I wanted to try it on someone else before trying it on Harry." She gave Ron a knowing look.

"Me?" He croaked.

"Try it on me," Ginny offered. "I'll do it."

"No," Ron protested. "I'll do it. I should be the one. Gin might not be able to take it!"

"Cute, Ronniekins," Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I literally had Tom Riddle knocking around in my brain once. I'm pretty sure I can take a little ancient dark magic better than you. Do it, Hermione."

"Okay here goes." Hermione did a series of complicated wand motions. " _Anima Revelare."_

Everyone stared in awe as a golden glow pulsed from Ginny's forehead, traveling down her body in what looked like a series of wires.

"Wonderful," Hermione breathed, "Almost like a neural network."

"A what?" Ron asked.

"It's a muggle thing, I'll explain it to you some other time. Let's call the Healer and try it on Harry."

Kingsley motioned to the Healer, who sat in between the two boys, monitoring their vital signs with her wand. She nodded at Hermione to perform the spell.

" _Anima Revelare."_

To everyone's surprise, the entire room lit up with a golden glow. There was a focus of light like Ginny's on Harry's forehead, and one on Draco's, but the two were connected by hundreds of streams of light zigzagging across the room, like a golden net wrapped around them.

" _Fascinating,_ " Hermione said, summoning a quill and scroll, rapidly scribbling. "The network was rerouted. They're sharing magic."

* * *

"So let's get this straight," Draco babbled on, as he and Harry chose another door. "This place we're stuck in, it's like an _amalgamation_ of both our memories? How did that happen?"

"I dunno," Harry replied, barely paying attention, to Draco's annoyance.

"How come your memory seemed more… _solid_ to me? Like…"

"More real? Yours seemed more real to me."

"Huh. Interesting. Maybe it's because we lived the real memory, so we can tell when it's just a replicate."

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Makes sense."

" _Makes sense._ " Draco teased. "Bloody hell, Potter. Work with me here. I wish I got stuck here with Granger instead, at least she's got the brains to get us out."

Harry chuckled. "True, Hermione could figure out a way out of here. Strange _you_ should say that, though, given she's muggleborn and all. Your father would be pissed." He placed a hand on his chest and gave his best offended-Lucius impression.

"Hmm, true. After what you've shown me, muggles are _indeed_ awful. You've re-converted me, Tom Riddle the Third."

"Although…" Harry grinned. "Christmas _is_ a muggle tradition, and you love Christmas, don't you?"

"For your information I happen to _enjoy,_ no, _adore_ the symbolic ruining of a perfectly good cooked turkey with fresh blood during the Solstice. Wait, this is Hogwarts. At night."

"Yeah, it is. Whose memory is this?"

"I hope it's yours, my Hogwarts night memories aren't technically for public consumption." He gave Harry a sort-of flirtatious wink, which he instantly regretted. _What the fuck, Draco?_ Luckily, Harry didn't seem to notice.

"I think it's mine," he said, pointing to a door slightly ajar, leading to what seemed to be an empty classroom. "I think I'm in my invisibility cloak. There."

They entered the room, to see Dumbledore sitting on a desk, watching a young Harry sit in front of a large, ornate mirror.

"So—back again, Harry?" Dumbledore said, gently. Draco heard the Harry beside him hold his breath.

He watched Dumbledore talk to Harry, teaching him about the Mirror of Erised. A knot of guilt formed in his stomach. Dumbledore, the headmaster, was seated on the floor beside a student like an equal, patiently answering his questions, long beard, odd twinkle in his eye.

He thought about that night at the Astronomy tower, how it significantly contributed to his life's desperate spiral. He thought of Severus, and how he stepped in to save his soul. He looked at the old man, and thought of the powerful wizard that he was. _He couldn't save me._ He thought bitterly, but a small voice whispered back, _but think of the others he could have._ He thought of what his actions as a 16-year old cost the wizarding world- most of all, what it had cost the young man beside him. _Dumbledore wasn't perfect,_ a guilty thought creeped into his mind. _But there were times Dumbledore was all he had._

"You okay?" he asked, finally. Harry's lips were pressed tightly, his brow knitted, but he nodded. Both the young Harry and Dumbledore had already left.

"Let's stay here a little, if you don't mind." Draco made a small noise of agreement as Harry walked towards the mirror.

"Well, that's odd," Harry said. "The mirror is working."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see me in the mirror. Current me. With everyone I love behind me. My family. My friends, dead and alive. See?" He beckoned to Draco, who peered into the glass. "What can you see?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"It's just… a normal mirror. I see the two of us, looking at it." He lied, deciding to leave out the part where the Mirror-Harry's arm was draped around his shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7: Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 7: The Hogwarts Express**

* * *

Harry struggled to keep track of all the doors they've tried. The first time Harry ever used magic, freeing a snake from the zoo. The first time Draco ever used a broom, fell, and broke his arm. When they found themselves in unpleasant memories, like when Draco visited his father in Azkaban, or Sirius's death, they established an agreement in which they try to leave the memory as early as they could.

They learned that the memories seem to have some response to their minds and focus - if they thought really hard of leaving, the memory faded faster. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Draco had pitched the idea of using their focus to imagine a door exiting the hall of doors. It hadn't worked so far, but Harry was pleased to find that Draco was beginning to be much more cooperative, and a lot less combative.

Still, they were no closer to finding their way out of the hall of doors, nor understanding how they got there in a first place.

 _All we can do right now is try more doors,_ Harry thought, and they did.

They found themselves in a compartment in the Hogwarts Express, looking at younger versions of themselves. Ron was there as well, and so were Crabbe and Goyle.

"So is this one of mine or yours?" Draco said.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied. "This is the first one so far with both of us in it."

" _Is it true?" The small, pointy blonde kid asked eagerly. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"_

"Fan-fucking-tastic!" Draco exclaimed. "It's the first time we met!" Harry watched amusedly as the young Malfoy and Ron started getting into a big spat. His eyes traveled from the small blonde boy, well-groomed, with an air of juvenile arrogance, to his older counterpart. He was slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed, shirt half-untucked. Although he was smiling, there was a dark look in his eyes. Harry saw a trace of the Mark on his left forearm through his white shirt. _A drastic change_ , he noted. _He's almost a different person._ He wondered how different _he_ looked in Malfoy's eyes, from the skinny boy, with messy black hair, oversized clothes, and tape on his glasses. That clueless boy, just happy to have found an escape from the Dursleys, who had no idea what kind of dark, painful places that train was taking him.

" _No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."_

"Oooooh, Weasley just got in-ci-ne-RATED!" Malfoy was laughing, and Harry couldn't help but feel laughter bubble out of his chest.

 _"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."_

Malfoy's hand clapped him on the back

"Potter, you monster! Look at his adorable little hand! He's trembling! Shake it, for Salazar's sake!"

Harry laughed and replied in unison with his younger self. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

The two men laughed as the young Malfoy threatened to steal young Potter's treats, as Scabbers (who was actually Peter Pettigrew, Harry revealed, much to Draco's horror and amusement) bit Goyle's finger, as Hermione came in and nagged them.

"So that was a train wreck," Draco chuckled, taking a seat in the train compartment. Harry sat down beside him." _'Some wizarding families are much better than others,'_ said Bellatrix's nephew. Dumb kid."

"Maybe if I'd accepted your friendship, things would have turned out better." Harry replied, mimicking the boy's small, trembling hand. "Maybe you wouldn't have had to try so hard to impress me."

Malfoy, smiled, shaking his head. "I wonder… Maybe we should have a do-over."

Harry turned to face him. Draco was smiling almost shyly, as he extended a hand.

"Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy, eleven years old. I'm a little shit now, but in a few years I'm in for a life of pain. Do you want to be my friend? If you say no, I'll hound you for the next seven years trying to earn your respect."

Harry laughed and shook his hand.

"How d'you do, Draco, I'm Harry Potter, but you already knew that cause I'm _famous…_ " (Draco howled with laughter) "… and everyone adores me. But secretly, I'm actually extremely overrated and deeply flawed. Oh, and bad shit happens to me all the time."

They broke the handshake, and Harry looked into Draco's soft, gray eyes, and replied, in all seriousness.

"Sure, I'd like to be your friend."

* * *

Hermione felt a hand gently shake her awake. She lifted her head from the book she had been lying on and saw Luna Lovegood smiling at her.

"Hello, sweet Hermione." She spoke dreamily. "Any progress?"

"Hi," she replied. "None so far. Can I talk you through my thoughts?"

"If you'd like," She said, taking a seat beside Malfoy's bed.

"Sharing magic isn't such a strange phenomenon in the wizarding world. Pregnant witches, for example, show much stronger magical abilities due to sharing with their child. Or twins, even, have documented drawing power from one another."

Luna nodded, as she began brushing the sleeping Malfoy's hair.

"My problem right now is that Harry and Malfoy's magic is too… _intimately_ intertwined. If you look at it, you won't know where Harry begins and ends."

"Funnily enough," Luna quips, "Harry's and Draco's lives have been interconnected for as long as I can remember. I guess now it's just more… literal?" She gave a little giggle.

"I'm worried that if we try and separate the two, we risk damaging one… or even both. I don't know, Luna, I guess I'm just feeling extremely pressured. It's been almost two months and we're no closer to waking Harry and I feel like I've got this knot in my brain-"

"Sometimes a little relaxation can loosen a knot," Luna stood and hugged her friend. "Go home, Hermione. Rest a little. I'll watch over them tonight."

"I guess you're right." Hermione replied, stifling a yawn. "Can I ask you a question though?"

"Hmm?"

"Why… are you taking care of Malfoy?"

Luna smiled serenely. "Cause he's my friend."

Hermione frowned, but shrugged and said goodnight to Luna. _Does she recall our past differently? When has Malfoy ever been a friend?_

* * *

 **A/N: Borrowed a couple of lines from The Sorcerer's Stone. Yes! You've patiently waited through 7 chapters and I can assure you the sexy part will begin in the next chapter. So stay tuned! I'm writing as fast as i can so that the words in my head don't dissipate into nothingness. As always, I'd love comments and critiques.**


	8. Chapter 8: Discovery

**Chapter 8: Discovery**

* * *

"Well, that was fucking terrifying." Draco said, as they walked away from Harry's memory of Bathilda Bagshot turning into a giant snake at Godric's Hollow. "Voldemort is the fucking worst."

Harry shivered as they walked through the hallway of doors.

"Tell me what you were looking for again?"

"The Hallows." Harry explained. "The Deathly Hallows."

"You mean like… in the children's stories?"

"Yes. The wand, the stone, and the cloak."

Draco huffed, cold air escaping from his mouth. "Your life is fucking ridiculous."

Harry smiled. "You're one to talk. I'm freezing, let's enter a door." Draco nodded, the image of the disgusting snake-woman corpse still in his head.

"I could use a lighthearted memory right about now. Or y'know. _The exit._ "

* * *

They stepped into a black door with delicate green trimming. They found themselves in a cozy dorm room, decorated in various shades of green, which Harry could only assume was Draco's room in the Slytherin Dungeon. He grinned as he saw a teenaged Draco, light blonde hair immaculately in place, in a dark green silk shirt. He was nervously casting charms around the room, filling it with candles and what looked like rose petals.

"Merlin, Potter, not this one." Draco looked absolutely mortified, "Please, don't look at this. Let's go."

Harry laughed and teased, "Well, you _did_ say you wanted to see a pleasant-"

He barely finished his sentence when Theo Nott burst into the room.

"About fucking time," Draco from the memory spoke, as he grabbed Theo's face and kissed him furiously.

Harry was at a loss for words as he watched the two boys, wrestling each other into one of the beds, hands intertwined in each other's hair. He watched Theo unbuttoning Draco's shirt, trailing kisses down his neck, brushing his thumb against his nipple. His arm hairs stood at the sound of Draco's soft guttural moan as he traced the front of Theo's trousers with one hand.

Then he felt Draco's fist connect with his jaw.

The blow made tear his eyes away for one second, his glasses skittering to the ground. He saw a blurred image of Draco sprinting away. Harry didn't know whether to run after him or to keep watching the scene unfolding before him – the boys were shirtless now, grinding lasciviously against each other. He was a little horrified at himself for not being able to look away as Theo slid a hand inside Draco's trousers…

"I KNEW IT! I FUCKING BLOODY KNEW IT!" Pansy Parkinson burst into the room, her voice shrill and impossibly loud. The two boys quickly broke contact and started scrambling for their clothes.

"Pansy!" Draco gasped, "I can explain!"

"A naked Theo in your bed is explanation enough! You're bent! You're a bloody pouf!"

Draco sat on the bed with his face in his hands and started sobbing. Theo placed an arm around him and glared at the girl.

"Fuck, Drake," she started "Don't cry." She sat down on his other side and placed an arm around him as well.

"Babe, please. You know I love you." She cooed. "I'm just being dramatic. I'm your oldest damn friend. You know I'm only upset cause we're technically _dating._ " She squinted at Theo. Draco wailed and put both of his arms around Pansy's waist.

"I'm so sorry Pans," he said. Pansy stroked his hair.

"I'll… give you some space," said Theo, putting on his shirt, and quietly leaving. The two sat on the bed in silence for a while, save for a few tearful sniffs.

"I love you, Pansy. Or I wanted to love you. I just… I'm not…. I didn't plan for me to be this way. I wish I weren't." Tears started welling in Pansy's eyes.

"Don't be like that, love. I mean, I get it, Theo's hot." They both laughed tearfully. "To be honest, I kind of knew. You didn't like snogging and you were awfully obsessed with Harry Potter growing up. I'm a bit chuffed that I'm right, really."

"Shut up, I fucking _hate_ Potter." Draco laughed, wiping his eyes. "Remind me to take 50 points from Gryffindor later."

They smiled at each other silently for a second. "Merlin. What is my father going to say?"

"Nothing," Pansy straightened up. "He's not going to know. Nobody has to know, until you're comfortable with it. We'll still continue 'dating' if you want. Bit of a roadblock in my sex life, really, but I'll manage."

Draco moaned. "I can't do that to you, Pans," Pansy pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"Of course you can. I'd do anything for you, you bloody pouf. Now get dressed and give me your most heterosexual smile."

* * *

The memory faded away and Harry felt extremely ashamed. Just as Draco had finally given him his trust, he betrayed him. He had violated Draco's most intimate thoughts, when he had asked him specifically not to look. He tried to look away, he reasoned to himself, but it was almost… hypnotizing. He retrieved his wand from his pocket and cast lumos. The hallway was impossibly long, dark, full of doors, with no Draco Malfoy to be found.

"Fuck!" he swore, his voice echoing into the void.

He shook his head and started walking, calling out Draco's name. He couldn't explain what he was feeling at the moment, there was guilt, yes; there was worry that a cold, wandless Malfoy was wandering alone in the endless hallway. But there was something else tugging at his chest, something he couldn't quite place. He felt as if he had found something—an answer, a solution, to a question he never asked. The air was biting cold, but he felt impossibly warm as images floated through his head: bruised, swollen lips; fingers grasping at platinum hair; a tongue tracing patterns against alabaster skin.

* * *

 **A/N: Not quite the sexy you hoped for? Hahaha sorry I just needed a little catalys** **t to shake my boys up a bit.**


	9. Chapter 9: First Kiss

**Chapter 9: First Kiss**

A/N: Borrowed lines from OOtP for accuracy…. I mean, not that we're aiming for complete fidelity to the books here but yknow haha

 **ADDENDUM: CAN I JUST SAY THIS HAS BEEN MY FAVORITE CHAPTER TO WRITE SO FAR, AND I JUST WANT TO THANK THOSE WHO'VE FAVED AND FOLLOWED THIS STORY? IT WARMS MY HEART TO KNOW THAT I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE INVESTED IN THIS THING CAUSE OHOHOHO I AM EXTREMELY, DEBILITATINGLY INVESTED IN WRITING THIS. LEAVE ME REVIEWS (or PMs if youre shy) THEY GIVE ME LIIIIFE**

* * *

Draco could barely move his limbs from the miserable cold. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, hugging his knees, slumped against a door. He shuddered, drops of condensation dripping from his nose. He remembered Harry's face, pale, mouth agape, watching him and Theo practically rip each other's clothes off. He buried his face in his hands. He was rapidly cycling between _What the fuck does he care it's my life_ and _Please Merlin just kill me, end me now._

Only three people knew about Theo and him, and it was the three people in that memory. At the time, with the company he kept, it was highly dangerous information. Pansy swore an oath and even let Draco plant manufactured memories in her mind. Theo had to disappear. Two years had passed after the war and Draco had not received a single owl from him. He heard rumors from Zabini that he had married a woman from a pureblood family in France. Draco felt a little wounded that he wasn't told, but he was happy for him. Not getting involved with the war, with his Death Eater father, not getting involved with _him,_ he probably saved Theo's life.

Draco, on the other hand, built a vault. A heavy, iron vault in his mind that only he had the key. The auror had been right, there was something tucked away in Draco's mind. But instead of harboring dark Death Eater secrets, he had hidden away himself. For protection. Much like a dragon, viciously guarding his hoard, and among the glittering treasures, was Theo's lips, his rough hands, the muscles on his back. And Harry Potter – that damned bastard – blasted through his vault with a _reducto_ and grabbed his most precious gem.

He sat there, slowly fading in and out of consciousness in the freezing hallway, lips blue, teeth chattering. He was sure that he was good as dead until he saw the gentle light emanating from Harry's wand.

"Hey." Harry had spoken, softly. "You're frozen. Here." He pulled off his jacket and handed it to him. Draco didn't move, partly because he was still angry, partly because he was completely numbed from the cold. Harry knelt beside him and carefully draped the jacket around his shoulders. Despite himself, Draco relished the small heat that enveloped him.

"I'm sorry, Draco." He spoke so softly, almost a whisper. "That was private. I shouldn't have seen it."

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry I invaded your memory. You can obliviate me if you want. Whatever you want." He frowned and touched Draco's face with the back of a warm hand. "You're too cold. We have to get inside."

Harry stood and started opening doors, peeking into them but not entering. Draco didn't budge. When he found a door that he seemed to approve of, he circled back to Draco and held out his hand.

"Come." He looked up at him, hand outstretched authoritatively, skin bronze and almost glowing. "I figured I owe you a private memory."

Draco placed a frozen hand into his and let him pull him up. They hobbled to the door with Harry's hand lightly touching his lower back, leading him.

"Wait," Draco finally let out, as they reached the doorframe. "I have to say something." He took a deep shuddering breath.

"It's not like I'm ashamed of it. I'm not. That's not why I... That's not why I hid it away. It's just… I am irreparably broken." He pleaded. "And I have to keep the parts of me that stayed intact. The parts that I still _like._ " Harry nodded seriously and pulled him into the warmth.

* * *

They entered into what seemed to be an unfamiliar classroom at Hogwarts, with Christmas decorations strewn about. Harry's friends were walking out of the classroom, greeting each other a 'Happy Christmas.' Harry was there, picking up cushions from around the room and stacking them in a corner, seemingly dragging his feet.

"This is the Room of Requirement," Harry told him.

A girl stood in the middle of the room, crying. Draco recognized her as the Ravenclaw seeker from their year, Cho Chang.

" _Wh-What's up?" Harry had asked her, seemingly dumbfounded._

She began talking about Cedric Diggory, who had died the previous year, as Draco recalled. He watched Harry try to comfort the crying girl, hands awkwardly hanging at the sides of his body.

"He was really good..." Harry was saying, "But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance."

"You survived when you were just a baby," Cho pointed out softly.

"Yeah, well," said Harry, and Draco couldn't help but smile. "I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of."

 _Classic Potter_ , he thought. He turned to look at the man beside him who was watching the scene fondly. _Was he completely unaware of himself? Couldn't he tell that there was really something… different about him? A certain… quality. A sheen. A luster. Didn't he know he was unmistakably the Chosen One?_

"Mistletoe," said Cho quietly, pointing at the ceiling.

"Yeah…It's probably full of Nargles, though."  
"What are Nargles?"

"No idea."

Draco laughed quietly at the odd exchange, and he felt the warmth of Harry's arm brush against his. Harry and Cho had moved closer together and began to kiss, with his eyes half-open, with her tears staining on his cheeks. The kiss had seemed peaceful, reverent. Draco felt the color rush back into his cheeks.

"When Ron and Hermione asked me how it went it afterwards," Harry murmured to him amusedly, "All I could say was 'It was wet.'" Draco turned to him to laugh, but was caught by the intensity of his bright, emerald eyes, the color breaking through slightly fogged round lenses.

"I-" Harry cleared his throat, seemingly uncomfortable. "Er, I always wondered."

Draco tilted his head confusedly.

"I always wondered why I didn't enjoy that kiss."

Draco had barely any time to react as Harry Potter grabbed his face with both hands, and placed his lips right on top of his.


	10. Chapter 10: The Masked Wizard

A/N: This chapter was a huge pain in the ass? I admit, I kind of boxed myself into a corner in this one. I had this idea in my head about how to go it, it was supposed to be before Chapter 7 but I pushed it down cause I wanted to lead up to it with hints, and progress Draco's and Harry's relationship first… now I've made this entire trail but just realized that my idea isn't consistent with the Deathly Hallows timeline... So I had to double back, rewrite stuff, and basically just _make it work_. So if something seems off to you… Well I probably changed it. So sorry, I'm a work in progress. also s/o to the my 2 homophobic reviewers the one with a poem is particularly excellent

 **Anyway, enough talk, let's get to it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: The Masked Wizard**

 _Don't fail me now, Gryffindor courage,_ Harry thought desperately as he grabbed Draco's face and kissed him. Draco let out a small gasp that Harry caught with his lips. He felt hands tentatively inching up his sides, giving him another shot of courage – he traced his tongue along Draco's lips, begging entrance. He yielded and Harry deepened the kiss, his heart thudding against his ears. _Holy shit, I'm kissing Draco Malfoy. What am I doing?_

"—We shouldn't." Draco gasped, abruptly breaking away.

Harry felt a little bummed at the loss of contact. Draco's face was a deep shade of red, up to his ears.

"Er," Harry panted, "Okay."

"Sorry." Draco said. The room was suddenly thick with tension.

"Okay," Harry repeated, unsure of what to say. "We, uh... don't have to." Draco nodded, refusing to meet his eye.

"Should we… go?" He said, as the Room of Requirement started fading into nothingness.

The two of them walked side by side in the dark hallway in painfully awkward silence. Harry wanted to punch himself in the face. Frantically, he tried to think of a way to save face, to explain what he just had done. _So sorry, Malfoy, I thought I was stuck in limbo for an indeterminate amount of time in this limbo with my girlfriend Ginevra, honest mistake, really. We'd been isolated for so long, I hallucinated I was with a cute blonde with unusually smooth skin, no, wait, that's just worse-_

"I want to talk about Theo," Draco suddenly blurted out.

 _I want to talk about me!_ Harry screamed in his head, but instead went with an oddly high-pitched, overenthusiastic "Sure!"

Draco was thoughtfully silent for a second.

"Theo was the… He was the only, uh… guy."

"Okay… So are you two still…"

"No." Draco shook his head. "I broke it off with him when I had to take the Mark. I needed to protect him… and myself." An image of Ginny popped into Harry's head, and he felt a tinge of guilt creeping under his skin.

"I haven't seen him or spoken to him since the war."

"But… do you want to?"

"I've thought about it on occasion. But I hear he's happy now. And I don't really want him to get involved in all off," he gestured to himself, "this." He glanced at Harry with an apologetic look.

"Oh."

"So, er-" Draco bit his lower lip. "Are you… Have you, uh… been with other, uh…"

"No, I've never even thought about it before," Harry replied quickly, "Until now, that is." He gave Draco a little grin that made him blush all over again. He was a little delighted to realize Draco was still wearing his jacket.

"But aren't you and the Weaselett—Weasley…?"

"Well… Yes, but-" Harry started.

"—SO, we should probably try and get you back home to her, hmm?"

Harry was about to get into his complicated relationship with Ginny, but Draco started walking briskly ahead of him.

"This one?" Draco's voice was strained as he pointed to a plain white door. He entered without waiting for Harry's response.

* * *

Harry followed him through the door frame into a musty, pitch black room. Just as he reached for his wand, a voice from across the room whispered " _Lumos,_ " and the light revealed a figure donning the Death Eater mask. In the darkness, Harry could make out that they were in a dark cellar. He felt Draco's fingers grasping at his sleeve.

The masked figure waved his wand, searching the cellar. The light from his wand fell on a frail-looking girl, curled up in a corner, shivering.

" _Shit,_ " the masked man swore, as he rushed to prop the girl up in a seated position. Harry saw the girl's dirty tear-stained face and realized it was Luna Lovegood.

"Are you alright?" the masked man whispered, pulling out a potion from under his cloak and placing it against Luna's chapped lips. "Drink." She shuddered, but complied.

"It wasn't so bad this time," Luna whispered. "I think she may finally be getting bored with me. The potion helped." The man didn't respond, but waved his wand around the cellar until he found another figure on the ground. _Ollivander,_ Harry suddenly recalled.

"He's fine. She didn't call him." Luna whispered.

Footsteps and voices echoed above them.

"I have to go." The man whispered.

"Thank-" Luna started to say, but the man had already begun to climb up the cellar steps.

So many gears were turning in Harry's mind. He raced after the masked figure, to find Draco, with a frightened, shifty expression on his face, removing his mask and cloak at the landing. He followed Draco into the familiar drawing room, with the purple walls, chandelier, extravagant furniture.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa. "Draco, come here."

He saw himself in the center of the room, glasses looking tiny on his giant swollen face, tied back-to-back to Ron, Hermione and Dean.

Draco was walking slowly across the room like a funeral march.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy asked, a madman's gleam in his eye. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

The older Draco stepped to his side. Harry turned to him and asked, "Did you know it was me?"

"Yes," Draco, replied.

" _I can't be sure," lied the other Draco, averting his eyes from Harry's face._

" _But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over…"_

Harry could barely hear Fenrir Greyback and Lucius bicker about taking credit for his capture.

"Why did you lie?"

" _I don't know!" the Malfoy from the memory was saying, as he walked away towards the fireplace where his mother stood watching._

Draco smirked and gestured to him. "What _he_ said."

" _We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa called to her husband, her voice wavering slightly._

" _What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback._

Lucius and Narcissa were urging, badgering, practically pleading Draco to identify Hermione and Ron, and he kept giving vague noncommittal answers.

Bellatrix Lestrange then burst into the room. Harry saw the Draco beside him cringe. It was surreal to see the scene unfold as if his soul had been torn from his body and he was watching his life from outside his body. Just as Harry remembered – Lucius and Bellatrix beating each other over who gets to call Voldemort, Bellatrix noticing the sword of Gryffindor, stunning the Snatchers and Greyback. He watched himself, along with Ron, Dean and Griphook, get dragged down to the cellar.

Hermione was shaking with fear as Bellatrix Lestrange circled her.

"Well," she cackled, "Now that it's just us girls… _Crucio._ "

Hermione's scream rang in Harry's ears, causing him actual physical pain. He felt Draco's hand on his shoulder, trying to lead him away.

"I need to see," Harry said, a heaviness crushing his chest.

" _Where did you get this sword, mudblood?" She only answered in sobs._

" _I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"_

" _We found it – we found it – PLEASE!" Hermione screamed again._

Harry trembled as he watched one of his best friends contort and squirm with pain. He wanted desperately to reach out to her and make it stop.

"You don't _need_ to see it," Draco said gently.

Harry shook his head. "All of this … They all did this for me. This happened because of me."

Draco smiled at him sadly, then turned to look at his mother and father. "Funnily enough, I could say the same."

The rest of the memory happened in a blur – Griphook identified the sword as a fake, Bellatrix summoning Voldemort, Ron and Harry burst in, disarming her. Bellatrix threatening Hermione with a knife. Dobby dropping the chandelier from the ceiling, glass everywhere, Harry wrestling three wands from Draco's hands. Dobby, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Griphook and unfortunately, Bellatrix's knife, disappearing with a loud crack.

Bellatrix shrieked inhumanly as the memory faded away.

* * *

The two walked in silence for a while, in the dark hallway of doors, chewing on the memory that they just relived together.

"Draco," Harry wondered. "You were looking up. You _saw_ Dobby on the chandelier, before anyone else noticed. Why didn't you do anything?"

Draco's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure. Maybe I didn't want to win. I made a pretty shite Death Eater."

"That makes three," Harry breathed.

"Huh?" Draco asked.

"The first was when you lied and said you didn't recognize me. The second was the chandelier. The third was… when you disarmed Dumbledore at the Astronomy tower." Draco stared at him quizzically.

As they walked together, he explained about how the Elder Wand didn't work for Voldemort because it didn't recognize him as its true owner, and how at the final battle, Voldemort's killing curse rebounded and ultimately destroyed him.

"So that's three times you saved my arse," He said. "Why?" Draco stopped walking and whirled to face him.

"You pulled me from Fiendfyre," he counted off on his fingers, "You stunned a Death Eater attacking me, you testified at my trial. Then you literally jumped in front of those two Aurors, for me. Why did _you_ do it?"

"I don't know," Harry smiled. "Maybe that's just who we are. Maybe we were just destined to save each other over and over again."

Draco chewed his lip, seemingly in contemplation. He searched his face with shiny, gray eyes, settling on his mouth, and cleared his throat.

"Well, in any case, Potter, you're ahead." He felt cool fingers slide against his neck. "Let me even out the score."

Draco pulled him into a slow, tentative kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around his waist. He didn't understand why this happened, nor could he explain why it felt so… _correct._ It was like his whole life, he had been thrust into things, situations that he never wanted to be a part of. In his whole life feeling misplaced, only now had he felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

"Well, technically," he murmured against Draco's lips. "Your third one didn't count, you had no idea the Elder Wand would do that. Does that mean I get another kiss?"

He felt the blonde sneer against his mouth and whisper "Arse," before closing the distance between them.


	11. Chapter 11: Sectumsempra

Chapter 11: Sectumsempra

 _A/N: Hello! I'm so sorry, I know I haven't posted in a while. I've had a rough couple of months in my personal life. Rest assured I don't want to let this fic die without telling the entire story in my head so I will try my very best! Hope you enjoy this chapter, as per usual, commentary and civil discussion is welcome and appreciated. Thanks to all those who are still along for the ride, thanks for your patience._

 _Borrowed lines from HBP Ch_ _24._

* * *

"This is such a terrible idea," Draco said, "Of all the terrible ideas I've had this may be the worst."

Harry was practically _strutting_ ahead of him, the arrogant prick. He turned and grinned.

"Mmmhmm. You've already said that." Draco swatted his arm.

"I'm serious! You're _Harry Potter. The. Harry. Potter._ "

"I'm aware." _Prick._

"The Savior of the Wizarding World, The Chosen One, Harry Potter. And I'm… well." He gestured to his arm.

"Not anymore." Harry said quietly. Draco shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to the rest of the world. Also, there's also a little matter of, umm I don't know, your _girlfriend_?"

"Er, yeah, about that…"

"What?" Draco demanded, " _What?_ "

Harry struggled to find the words. "Well, Ginny and I, er. We kind of have an… arrangement."

" _Arrangement?_ "

"Well. Yes. We're together but we're kind of… also seeing other people."

"Like an open relationship?"

"You could say that." Harry waved his hand nervously. "Don't, yknow… Don't worry about it?" Draco stared at him, deadpan.

"And you _suppose_ I would be amenable to this kind of situation? You expect I would be okay with that?"

Harry looked wounded. "No, I _thought_ you of all people might understand having to do things because it's expected of you, not because you want to." He sighed and ruffled his messy black hair.

"After the war, Ginny and I tried to get back together. But… it felt different. It was like we used to be different people. And we just didn't fit anymore. But her family… Molly, George, _Ron…_ They needed it. They lost so much, they needed the _normalcy…_ " He shrugged his shoulders.

"So we stayed together. Kept it together for the newspaper photos, for the holiday dinners. And it sucked. And I loved Ginny enough that I told her if she wanted to see other people, she could."

Draco's expression softened. "And you?" Harry shook his head.

"Nah, mate," Harry flashed him another brilliant smile, "I couldn't keep one woman happy, much less _two._ "

"Luckily, I'm not a woman," Draco muttered to himself.

"Everything I did before, during, after the war," Harry ranted, ignoring him. "I did because that's what people _wanted_ me to do. For once, I want to do something that _I_ want." He touched Draco's cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Are you… sure? That this is what you want?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Another Potter rebellion, eh?" Draco smirked. "I'm almost honored to be a part of it."

They eventually entered a large, black, ominous looking door. To Draco's horror, they found themselves outside what seemed to be a bathroom, peeking in. He felt Harry stiffen beside him.

Draco saw himself doubled over a sink, clutching its sides for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Draco," Harry groaned. His heart thumped in his chest. He knew what was going to happen next, but he felt like he had to see it through Harry's eyes.

 _"No one can help me," said Malfoy. "I can't do it ... I can't ... it won't work ... and unless I do it soon ... he says he'll kill me ..."_

He was crying as he spoke to Moaning Myrtle. Draco was surprised to find his own cheeks wet with tears.

"I was so fucking terrified," he said almost to himself.

Harry drew him into a tight embrace, as if shielding him from the next series of events. He tightened his grip as the two boys started throwing hexes at each other, glass shattering and water splashing all over the bathroom.

"I wish I could've taken it all away," he whispered. "I wish none of this had ever happened to you. I wish your father had never brought you into this whole..."

"My _father?_ " Draco whispered. He disentangled himself from Harry. "My father didn't make me do this, Harry. Is that what you think?" Harry blinked at him, startled.

" _I_ chose this, Harry. I know it's not convenient for your little romance fantasy but you don't understand. I _love_ my father, Harry. He made mistakes, believing ideas he was _born to_. He did shitty, terrible things but everything he did was to _protect_ me."

Draco was fully shouting now. "If anything, I'm just _disappointed_ that he couldn't protect me anymore. The least I could do was to take my turn to try and protect my family. Myself. _I did this to myself. I chose this._ "

"And I failed," He ended with a whisper.

 _"SECTUMSEMPRA!"_

Draco watched as violent slash marks appeared on his face, as dark red blood soaked through his wet shirt. He watched himself, shaking violently, lying in a pool of his own blood as Harry desperately tried to stop the bleeding. All those years passed, and he still felt just as wounded.

"I'm so sorry," The Harry in front of him said. "That your father couldn't protect you. I'm sorry that you couldn't protect yourself. But I swear, _I_ _will_."

There was such a fierceness in his voice that Draco allowed himself to be held, to be kissed. He allowed his fingers to weave into his jet black hair, to travel down his nape, to dig his nails into his smooth skin. He let Harry grip his waist tight enough to bruise, he let his lips, tongue and teeth crash aggressively against his own. In his head, he allowed himself to be saved.

"I'll protect you," Harry spoke against his skin.

"You always have," he whispered back. "Even when I didn't want it."

Harry kissed him frantically, hands trembling at the front of his shirt as if losing confidence. Draco encouraged him by snaking a hand between his legs and gripping his hardening shaft. A gasp escaped Harry's parted lips. He grabbed at Draco's clothes, unbuttoning furiously, sliding his palm down his exposed chest. He traced the old, faded scars with his fingers, then with his lips, pressing on the harsh, jagged lines as if in apology. Draco shuddered at the hot breath against his chest. Surprising himself with his own audacity, he hastily shed his own clothes, then Harry's. The skin-to-skin contact almost felt white-hot, electric, a surge of energy rushing down his every nerve.

"Are you sure?" he implored, searching the bright, bold green eyes for any hesitation. Harry cupped his face with one hand and confidently stroked him with the other. Draco couldn't hold back the moan rising from his throat, his hand reaching out to mimic the other's ministrations.

"I've never been more sure."

* * *

When their passions were finally spent, they lay there in the dark hallway, nestled against each other, relishing each other's warmth.

"Do you hear that?" Harry murmured sleepily against the pale skin of the other's back.

"Hear what?"

"My name. Someone's calling my name."


	12. Chapter 12: Dean Thomas

Chapter 12: Dean Thomas

* * *

Hermione was awakened from the few winks of sleep she managed to steal by a loud bang of the door and people yelling. She frowned – her eyes stung, her head was pounding from exhaustion. She had stayed up all night by Harry's bedside, and now she had to deal with Ron and Ginny screaming at each other at the top of their lungs.

"You don't _deserve_ to be here! You don't deserve to visit him and watch over him, _you betrayer_ -" Ron's face was beet red, a neck vein bulging, pulsating, threatening to burst.

"You don't even _know_ , Ron, you don't even _understand-_ " Ginny was screaming right back, not backing down.

Hermione sighed and reached for her wand in her pocket. She cast a voice amplifying spell on herself and spoke,

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Ron and Ginny clasped their hands against their ears and fell silent. Hermione reversed the spell and rubbed her temple.

"I do hope either of you came here to bring me coffee instead of just disturbing me from what little sleep I have, seeing as I'm the _only one_ who seems to be making progress in waking Harry up? I doubt your little screaming match would do the trick." She muttered.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," Ginny said in a small voice.

"You would not _believe_ what I walked into this morning, Hermione," Ron was still fuming. "I saw Dean Thomas in Ginny's bedroom. He was _naked,_ Hermione." He gestured wildly. "Dean- _fucking_ -Thomas! He should be _thankful_ it's against my code as an Auror to kill him on the spot. I bloody well should have!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ginny, whose angry tears started streaming down her cheeks.

"How could you do that to me, Ginny? To all of us? To Mum, after all she's been through?" Ron pointed at Harry laying down in his bed, unmoving. "How could you do that to Harry? He _loves_ you, Ginny-"

" _Does he?"_ Ginny snapped back. "What do you know, Ron? _I loved Harry, Ron._ I loved him more than anyone or anything else. I've loved him ever since I met him. And when he finally started to love me back, _he left me, Ron!_ NINE FUCKING MONTHS! Of not knowing where he was, of just desperately believing that he – all three of you, in fact– were still even fucking alive!"

Hermione felt a stab of guilt in her chest. Ginny was shaking with rage, and Ron was, for once, speechless.

"My three _best_ friends, including the _love of my life._ " Ginny continued, sobbing. "Do you have any idea how that made me feel?" Hermione reached out and held her hand as tight as she could.

"Dean was there, though," she continued. "He was there the whole time. He was there _for me._ Even when he had to go into hiding, he made an effort to send word to me."

"When the war was over, it just wasn't the same. Harry was different. _I_ was different. But… He's _Harry Potter._ He's the _hero_. He's supposed to get the girl at the end. We couldn't just break up, could we?"

She smiled, almost sarcastically.

"So we pretended. A little white lie. For mum, for the family, for _you…_ for the whole fucking wizarding world, really, you know how Harry is. Always the martyr."

She walked over to Harry and stroked his black hair. "We stayed together, and everyone was happy. Except us." There was fire in her brown eyes "Aren't I allowed to be happy, Ron?"

Ron strode over to her with large, sure steps and Hermione rushed to intervene. He grabbed Ginny's arm.

"Ron-" Hermione started, but stopped as she saw Ron pull her into a fierce hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes, with only Ginny's sniffles interrupting the silence.

"Harry's my best mate," Ron finally spoke, his voice breaking. "So it's hard for me, okay? But you, Ginevra Molly Weasley _are my baby_ _sister_." He held her tightly by the shoulders. "I'd do bloody _anything_ to make you happy. You understand?"

Ginny smiled and rubbed her eyes.

"Dean-fucking-Thomas gets a pass this time."

* * *

After all the drama of the morning was over, and the three were finally settled in- with breakfast and large mugs of coffee, to her delight—Hermione began to brief the two on her research.

"So here's what I have so far. I haven't figured out a way to safely and without damage, disengage their consciousness from each other. In fact, it seems to me over the last three months, that they're getting even more, uh… _interconnected._ But I've been working on this spell. It's a modified _Legilimens_ … Yes, I know what you're thinking. It's what put them in this mess in the first place, so I've been very hesitant to try it. Instead of actually entering the person's mind, what if you could just use the spell to communicate with them?"

She did a little wave of her wand towards Ron and Ginny.

 _And I think I've finally gotten it to work._ To their awe, they heard Hermione's voice inside their heads even as her mouth wasn't moving.

"Blimey, Hermione, how do you manage to do these bloody amazing things?" Ron craned his neck to kiss her on the cheek.

Hermione beamed with pride. "Well, to be fair, Narcissa helped me a lot last night. Now I think I'm ready to try it on Harry. You're here in case anything goes wrong. If I could reach out to Harry, maybe they could find a way to separate themselves from each other." Ginny nodded and began casting the spells to monitor Harry and Draco's vital signs.

"Ready when you are."

Hermione took a deep breath, and grasped her wand.

 _Harry? Harry, can you hear me? It's me, Hermione…_

* * *

"So you can hear Granger's voice? Right now?" Draco asked, absently intertwining his fingers with Harry's.

"Yeah," he answered. "It's coming from everywhere... but sort of vague, and faint. Almost like a bad radio broadcast."

"Are you sure it's her?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Is it a memory?"

"No. It's either I'm hallucinating, or it's really her trying to talk to me. She, uh… she said I've been asleep for five months."

Draco felt his heart sink down to his feet. The idea of them being disconnected from the world for five whole months… time was hazy in the place they were in, in fact, Draco felt as if they had spent an entire lifetime there, and to have that time frame presented to them was strange and sobering.

"I mean… leave it to Granger to figure out a way to find us here. It's quite believable." He answered.

"HERMIONE!" Harry cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "HERMIONE, WE'RE HERE!"

Draco listened but could only hear Harry's voice echoing down the long hall.

"Anything?" he asked Harry. He shook his head.

"But now I have a connection," He said, grabbing the handle of a light wooden door. "I know Hermione is out there. She's near, I can feel it. They're trying to get me out of here, so I've to try to get out as well." He flung the door open and the two boys found themselves facing the sea—waves crashing, stars twinkling overhead, the air dense with salt, and a young man, with his back turned to them, carrying what seems to be a small bundle of clothes close to his chest.

* * *

 **A/N: We're at the last stretch of the story! Things will happen much faster now I promise. I've mapped this out as a 16 chapter story, and by the looks of it it's gonna have to be 17. Hope you're still entertained xoxo**


	13. Chapter 13: Shell Cottage

Chapter 13: Shell Cottage

 _A/N: So... usually when I post, I'm usually 2 chapters ahead. That is, when I post Chapter 11 that means I finished Chapter 12 already etc. This gives me time to look back, review my work, make some changes... buT THEN! momsenlisa said it was her birthday and since she has been so supportive of my fic as of late i decided to post this also! Happy birthday! I really liked this one, hope you do too!_

* * *

Draco looked up at the cottage they found themselves in. It was small, quaint—quite charming, actually— overlooking the dark tumultuous sea.

"Where are we?" Draco asked quietly, "What is this place?" Harry didn't answer.

He watched as the Harry from the memory picked up a spade and sank it into the loose earth. He had an odd, uneasy feeling as he watched him, seemingly gardening in the middle of the night, only to realize that the man was silently crying.

 _Merlin._

He looked over to the pile of clothes Harry had set down.

 _Oh, fuck. Merlin, fuck._ He felt the bile rise up from his stomach to his throat, causing him to cough and retch.

It was a grave. He was digging a grave.

* * *

Draco didn't remember Dobby much. All he knew was that he was one of the house elves at the manor, and he never really paid much attention to the elves to be able to distinguish them. All he knew was he was one of the "bad" ones his father complained about, and only in his second year when his father accidentally freed him did Draco even learn his name.

It was only through stories after the war did he learn of the role he played in the fall of the Dark Lord. It was only now, watching Harry, soiled and spent, laying the tiny body into the ground, did he realize what that little house elf meant to Harry Potter.

"It was my fault," the Harry beside him croaked.

"It wasn't," Draco was quick to disagree.

"Dobby… He would have done anything I asked of him. They all would have," He gestured to his friends in the memory as they said their goodbyes to the elf. On the horizon, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a pinkish orange glow reflecting against the now calm sea.

Harry looked sadly at Draco. "I asked them to _die_ for me, Draco. And I didn't deserve it. _They_ didn't deserve it."

Harry clasped a hand against his mouth as he began to cry. Draco wrapped his arms around him carefully, as if any weight would cause this fragile thing to break— he looked so small, his shoulders slumped and shaking from carrying what seemed to be the weight of the world on them. This was a different Harry than the one he knew –proud, strong, confident, almost cocky.

"You never asked for any of this." Draco whispered against his messy hair. "And I have a feeling… they would have died for you regardless."

"Why?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and thought about it for a second. "You don't need to understand why," he replied. "It's just… _you_. It's just who you are."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun rise over the sea, watching the changing sky cast colors on Harry's face as he mourned his friend in silence.

"I'm just… tired." Harry said, finally. "Tired of everything depending on me. Tired of people looking to me. If what Hermione said was true… I've been gone five months." Harry sighed. "What if the world had gone to shit again?"

 _You don't have to fix everything,_ Draco thought, but daren't say out loud. He nestled against the crook of Harry's neck. He thought about what awaited him in the real world—a world where he was still a hated criminal, where his friends were reluctant to be associated with him, where his own mother had to be hidden for her safety. He wondered if they awakened, would they even remember everything that had transpired in this strange meeting point of their consciousness? What if they woke up and were back to where they had started?

"We could just stay here," he said, in the quietest, tiniest voice. "Just us."

Harry kissed the top of his head.

"Just us," he echoed, thoughtfully.

* * *

"Any luck?" asked Ron, handing Hermione a hot cup of tea.

"I can't tell." Hermione answered. "I've been speaking to him for days but I haven't figured out a way to get a response."

"How about teaching him the modified _Legilimens?_ " Ginny asked.

"Well, I have tried," Hermione nodded. "but to be quite honest, even if he is awake and responsive in there, it _is_ a pretty complicated spell to learn, especially if only by narration… and, well, let's admit it, Harry can be a little… dense." Ginny and Hermione chuckled, as Ron coughed his tea out in indignation.

"Well…" Ginny said thoughtfully. "How about that one?" she pursed her lips, gesturing to the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy. "He's a prat and completely shite at Quidditch, but he was pretty smart in school, wasn't he?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Hermione replied. "That's a good idea. Although I'd feel pretty awkward talking to him… I'd much rather wait for Narcissa to return from overseas."

Almost as if on cue, they heard three sharp raps on the door. Ron rose to open it, and a tall, well-dressed man with thick framed glasses and impeccably smooth, dark skin entered.

"Er, hello?" Ron said, his hand ever so slightly moving reflexively towards the wand in his pocket.

"As eloquent as ever, I see, Weasley." The man replied.

"And you are-? Ouch!" Ginny demanded, and was consequently pinched by Hermione beside her.

"Hello, Blaise," Hermione greeted. "How are you?"

"As well as I can be, considering the circumstances," he replied. "Nice to see you, Ginevra." _("Blimey," Ginny muttered under her breath, "Blaise Zabini got hot.")_

"Narcissa and I have just Floo'd in from Beaune," he continued, loosening his scarf. "I'm pleased to tell you we're onto something quite promising, in fact they're about to test it right now. I had to see him first though." Hermione nodded. He made his way to Draco's bed and tutted under his breath.

"Look at you, stupid. Dumb fuck." A slight wrinkle formed in between his brows. "Leave it to you, Draco Malfoy, to get yourself into all kinds of deep shit." He brushed the light blonde hair off Malfoy's forehead gingerly – affectionately, almost lovingly, Hermione thought. He withdrew his hand sharply, as if suddenly conscious of all the other people in the room.

"Well," his voice was uncharacteristically loud, and Hermione could swear his eyes were glistening behind the thick glasses. She suppressed a giggle. _Slytherins and their aversion to showing emotions._

"I suppose you don't want to miss this. Let's go to the ninth floor, I believe everyone will be just about there."

They followed Blaise into the elevator and up into the farthest room on the ninth floor.

"I don't trust him," Ron whispered to Hermione. "Where is he taking us?"

"Ron!" she hissed between clenched teeth. "Be civil. Do you want to wake Harry or not? We need all the help we can get."

They entered the large hospital room to see the oddest combination of people. There was Narcissa Malfoy, looking exhausted but still elegant. Pansy Parkinson was there, arms crossed, speaking in whispers to Horace Slughorn. Kingsley Shacklebolt was speaking to the head MediWitch. In the middle of the room, standing beside the hospital bed was Augusta Longbottom, flanked by her grandson Neville, who was standing quietly, lips pursed, with the arm of Luna Lovegood draped around his shoulder.

"Ah, Miss Granger! So lovely to see you." Slughorn boomed. "I'm very excited for you to see our little pet project that Mr. Zabini has invited me into. Terribly bright potioneer, this one is, lots of potential." He clapped a hand on Blaise's shoulder. "I'm quite honored to be onboard, I have a soft spot for Mr. Potter, as you know."

"Now, Horace," Shacklebolt warned. "You are aware everything is confidential?"

"Yes, yes. Of course." He waved him away. "Shall we?"

"I suppose I should brief you," Blaise turned to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. "After the war, I've been working on this potion… How do I phrase this… The war messed a lot of people up," he struggled. "And not just physically. Broken bones and curse wounds are easy to heal but this?" he tapped his forehead. "The _soma_ , we've got covered, but the _psyche_? We don't have and counter curses or healing potions for that." He smirked. "Until now?" He pulled out a tiny green vial from his jacket.

"Fascinating," Hermione breathed. Blaise's face softened, his voice dropped low.

"Draco is… well. Draco is one of my very best friends. And I don't have many. I was making this for him. What with his father, and his arrest and all. For him, for Pansy, for Goyle… Anyway, when Narcissa came to me five months ago, I knew I had to finish it. So I contacted Horace."

"And now we are ready to test it!" Slughorn gleefully chimed in. "Augusta here has graciously agreed… Unfortunately, Alice is no longer here for this breakthrough…"

The MediWitch was waving her wand over the patient on the bed, monitoring his signs of life. "Alright sir, I'm going to ask a few questions… What's your name? Where are you right now? What day is it?" Her voice was soft, even toned, pausing after every question. The patient stared at her blankly with no response. "Ready when you are, Mr. Zabini."

"Aunt Cissy, the spell, if you will." Blaise spoke.

" _Anima Revelare._ " A dim net of light appeared above the patient, disjointed, disorganized, flickering.

"And now…" he waved his wand over the vial, the liquid forming a thin rope that pierced through the patient's skin, and flowed into his veins. Hermione saw Neville from the corner of her eye, tensing up and grip a fistful of bedsheet tightly.

The light above the patient, slowly started moving, shifting, connections forming…

The room was completely silent. Blaise nodded at the MediWitch. "We're stable," she replied. She turned to the patient. "Hello, sir. I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright? Do you know where you are?" No response.

"Do you know what time it is?" Silence.

"What's your name?" As everyone's collective breath was held, Hermione could barely hear the dry whisper that came out of the patient's mouth.

 _"F-f-Frank."_

Augusta wailed.


End file.
